


sand and water

by lazyfish



Series: promptober [17]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/M, Once again stealing titles from ER episodes, Past Character Death, They talk a lot about death as well so if that's not your cup of tea you might want to skip this :)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-16
Updated: 2019-10-16
Packaged: 2020-12-17 14:11:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21055724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lazyfish/pseuds/lazyfish
Summary: Five years ago, Bobbi and Hunter lost one of their best friends. It's hard not to think about what else they could lose.





	sand and water

“This is a bad idea,” Bobbi muttered to Hunter as he helped boost her over the fence.

“All of our ideas are bad ideas,” he answered, taking a running leap so he could get over the fence himself. He dropped down onto the cold ground with a quiet  _ thump _ , then straightened, brushing imaginary dirt off his clothes.

“We could’ve just come during the day, like normal people.”

“We’re not normal people,” Hunter answered, ever-ornery. And of course, he had a point. They weren’t normal people. They were disavowed agents turned fugitives, and them visiting a graveyard was sure to raise some questions - questions neither of them wanted to be asked in the first place.

“Do you remember where it is?” Bobbi asked, casting a wary glance around the graveyard’s perimeter. There was nobody there, of course, because sane people didn’t come to a graveyard at three in the morning unless they were searching for ghosts.

And really, wasn’t that what she and Hunter were doing anyways?

“Course I do,” Hunter answered. He reached out his hand for hers, and shifted the flowers they had brought into her other hand so she could take it. Hunter was warmer than she was, and his hand in hers was a welcome source of heat. He squeezed her fingers gently before tugging her down one of the many rows of headstones. How he could see in the dim lighting of the cloudy night, Bobbi didn’t have a clue. At least the graveyard seemed well-kept - there weren’t any roots for them to trip on, and despite the crisp autumn breeze there were only a few leaves that crunched underfoot as they moved through the rows of tombstones.

It took less than a minute for him to search out the grave they were looking for, and Bobbi was glad for it - exploring a graveyard at night wasn’t high on her list of things to do. She wouldn’t have gone at night at all if she thought there was a better way to do this, but there wasn’t. Hunter let go of her hand so she could lay the flowers down gingerly. As soon as she was done, though, she retreated back to him, allowing him to wrap an arm around her shoulders.

“Can’t believe it’s been five years,” Bobbi whispered as they looked at the headstone. Time had gotten away from her - five of the craziest years of her life, gone in what felt like the blink of an eye. It hadn’t felt that way when she was slogging through each day, but now, looking back, she wished she had savored the days, even the hard days, a little more.

“Neither can I,” Hunter answered, voice hoarse. Bobbi tugged Hunter closer - the night was cold and he was hurting and there was nothing she could do to help but hold him.

“Do you think she’s proud of us?” Bobbi asked, voice small.

“I reckon not.” Hunter huffed out a laugh that was edged with something Bobbi didn’t have a word for - maybe pain, but that wasn’t quite the right word. Longing seemed closer. “She’s probably looking down, thinking that we’re idiots for getting disavowed in the first place.”

“You two did  _ what _ ?!” Bobbi said, trying to match the tone and timber of Izzy’s voice. It was only then that she realized she couldn’t quite remember what Izzy’s voice sounded like, and her throat closed up.

“She probably shat herself when I joined up, though. Always told her I’d never get into S.H.I.E.L.D.”

“Technically, as far as the rest of the world is concerned, you never did.” Bobbi was going to focus on that instead of the stinging at the back of her eyes.

“Yeah, but she’s not the rest of the world. She’s Iz.” Bobbi ignored the use of present tense, if only because correcting Hunter would break her heart.

“Yeah,” Bobbi agreed, leaning against Hunter’s shoulder. “I wish she could’ve done this with us.” Izzy had always been there for her and Hunter, from the day they met to the day they broke up, and all the highs and lows in between. Even after that she had been there, trying to get them to sort their shit out. Even when she hadn’t liked them, Izzy had loved them, and that was more than just about anyone else could say.

“Me too.” 

There was a sound suspiciously like sniffling, but Bobbi didn’t acknowledge it. It was probably better that they both let go of all the tears they were holding onto, but Bobbi couldn’t manage it. It hurt, badly, and she was worried the pain would get worse instead of better if she let herself feel it for even a moment.

“What does it say?” Bobbi asked when the sniffles had subsided. The night was too dark for her to make out the writing on the stone, and she had never seen it in the light of day.

“Her name, the date she was born, and the date she died. Jane picked out a Bible verse, too.” Hunter didn’t sound too pleased with that, but it was important to Jane that Izzy’s former religion was acknowledged in death. “Naked I came from my mother’s womb, and naked I will leave this life. The Lord gives, and the Lord takes away.”

“Interesting Bible verse,” Bobbi murmured. It seemed less exultant than she had expected from a tombstone - nothing about going into the arms of angels or conquering death or living forever.

“When I die, I don’t want to be buried.”

Bobbi’s heart seized in her chest. Hunter dying had always been a real possibility - of course it had - but he had never spoken of his own death, or his wishes when he was gone, so plainly. Even when they had been married they mostly skimmed over their wishes in their wills. They did all of the legal jargon about their possessions being passed on, but nothing so emotional as talking about burial plans. 

“Cremation?” she asked, forcing her voice steady.

“Or just leave me for the crows. I’m not fussed.”

“You know I couldn’t do that.”

“I know.” He turned and kissed her temple softly. “But if I go first, I don’t want it to be a burden to you. Planning a funeral seems like an awful lot of work.”

“It does seem that way,” Bobbi agreed. As much as she hated to say it, she wasn’t sure if there were many people around anymore who would attend Hunter’s funeral. “When I die, will you call my parents for me?”

“If you want me to, yeah. What would you want me to say?”

Bobbi shrugged. “Just that I’m dead, I guess.” She didn’t have fond feelings for her mother and father, but she didn’t want them to wonder over her fate, either. It didn’t need to be a message full of sentiment she didn’t mean, just a business transaction.

“Where do you want your ashes to be scattered?” Bobbi asked after a long pause.

“Someplace that makes you think of me.”

“That’s not very specific.”

“Did you miss the part where I said I didn’t want to be a burden?”

“No.” Bobbi sighed. “I don’t like this.”

“Talking about death?”

“Talking about you dying.” Death didn’t bother her, but losing Hunter did. They were still fighting to rebuild a life together, and until she was at a point where she was stable and had a friend or two, she wasn’t sure she could cope with losing him. Bobbi would survive, but she wouldn’t  _ live _ after losing Hunter, and that was terrifying, especially since losing him was still a real possibility.

“I don’t fancy thinking about losing you, either, but…”

“But graveyards bring those thoughts out.” Bobbi nodded. “Don’t let my parents pick my epitaph if you do decided to bury me the normal way.” Bobbi still wasn’t sure where she wanted to end up after she was dead - and she would be dead, so would it really matter? But she was thinking about headstones and epitaphs because an interesting epitaph had brought this conversation about.

“You could pick one yourself,” Hunter suggested.

“Nah.” Bobbi turned, pressing her nose against Hunter’s neck. “I’ll let you pick.” She trusted Hunter to know how she wanted to be remembered, and to remember her well. The person who loved her most in life would love her most in death - it made sense.

“We should get going.” 

“We should.” 

But neither of them moved - at least not away from the graveyard. Instead Bobbi shuffled so she was hugging Hunter fully, chest-to-chest. She tucked her head over his shoulder, staring at the ground a few feet away until it blurred with tears and she had to close her eyes against them.

There, in the graveyard, with death hanging over them like a specter, it seemed impossible to let anything, even space, separate them. There, in the graveyard, in front of their best friend’s grave, they were starting over. There, in the graveyard, in the middle of the night, they were once again made new.


End file.
